


Christmas Eve, 2008

by areyoumiserableyet



Series: Occupy Love [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas AU, Fluff, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Smut, alcohol use, enjolras parents suck, idk how to tag, oh yeah there’s sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumiserableyet/pseuds/areyoumiserableyet
Summary: The time Enjolras asked Grantaire to go to his parents’ Christmas party.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: Occupy Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/813696
Kudos: 67





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Tw for homophobia (no slurs)  
> Also CW for a sexual relationship between two people with an age difference (E is 20 and R is 32 here)  
> This is also smutty even though I’m not good at writing smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve, 2008  
> 3 Years Before Occupy  
> Enjolras and Grantaire

When Enjolras opened the door to Grantaire’s smirking face, his mouth actually dropped open.

The man standing in front of him was not the same one Enjolras had been fucking senseless into his mattress merely 24 hours prior. The Grantaire Enjolras had come to know was all wild curls and crooked grins and scruffy beards that turned the skin on Enjolras’s inner thighs bright red. The man standing in front of him now, however, was clean shaven, his curls tamed, and he was wearing a black sweater under a tailored black sports coat. The whole outfit fit him like a glove, and  _ was he wearing shiny shoes? _

“You gonna just open-mouth stare at me all night or are you gonna let me in?” Grantaire asked, forcing Enjolras to snap out of it. 

“Sorry,” Enjolras muttered, embarrassed, as he stepped out of the way to allow Grantaire into his apartment. “You just look so...clean.” 

Grantaire made a face. “Thank...you?” He spun around, facing away from Enjolras, and stuffed his hands in the pocket of his slacks self-consciously. 

_ Clean?  _ Enjolras mentally kicked himself.  _ That’s what you landed on? Clean?! _

Enjolras stood in front of Grantaire and squeezed his arms. “R, I’m sorry. You look amazing. More than amazing,” Enjolras said, dropping his voice purposefully low. He slid his hands down to rest on Grantaire’s hips. “Really, really sexy.” 

“Yeah?” Grantaire asked, his face breaking out into a grin. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He looked Enjolras up and down, his gaze downright wolfish. Enjolras was wearing a black suit with a white dress shirt and a wine-colored bow tie. His long hair was brushed back and tucked behind his ears, blond waves spilling down over his shoulders. He normally resented being forced to attend events that were considered “black tie.” Any party with a dress code was not a party Enjolras wanted to attend, but he could deal if it meant he got to see Grantaire like this, looking handsome as hell and all for him.

Well, maybe not  _ all  _ for him. But. Still.

Grantaire reached up and held Enjolras’s jaw in one hand. It wasn’t a  _ rough  _ touch necessarily, but it certainly wasn’t gentle, and it jolted something inside Enjolras’s belly. Grantaire held him in place for a few moments and just...looked. Enjolras could hardly breathe.

After a moment, Grantaire shook his head almost imperceptibly, his mouth quirking for barely a second, before he was slamming their lips together, the hand on his jaw tightening slightly.

They hadn’t been kissing 10 seconds when Enjolras’s phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. “Shit, car’s here,” he said as he read the message that had appeared on his phone, and Grantaire groaned loudly and dramatically in response. Enjolras pecked Grantaire quickly on the lips, and said, “Don’t worry - I have lots of dirty sex planned for us when we get back tonight.” 

At that, Grantaire hummed happily and followed Enjolras out of the apartment to their waiting car. They were on their way to Enjolras’s parents' house for their annual Christmas Eve party. Enjolras was honestly still shocked that Grantaire had said yes, but then again, it may have been a little unfair to ask while they were naked...

_ Grantaire was nuzzling in Enjolras’s neck, their wet bodies flush against one another. He let his head fall back onto Grantaire’s shoulder as the other man snuck a hand around to take Enjolras into his. _

_ “R?” Enjolras muttered. His voice was nothing more than a rumble in his chest against the sound of the water pouring from the shower head above them.  _

_ “Mm?” was his mumbled response as he lazily stroked Enjolras, planting kisses to his shoulder and neck. _

_ “Do you have plans Wednesday?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire tightened his grip then, eliciting an involuntary moan from him. Enjolras could feel Grantaire smile against the back of his neck.  _

_ “Isn’t Wednesday Christmas Eve?” Grantaire asked then, stopping his ministrations. _

_ He turned around to face Grantaire fully, stepping away from him so he could focus on the conversation at hand. It was very hard to form sentences while his dick was brushing up against Grantaire’s, after all. _

_ “My parents throw a Christmas Eve party every year. It’s just a bunch of their shitty friends and a ton of distant relatives who say racist things and ask me when I’m going to ‘find a girl.’ It’s awful. Do you want to go with me?”  _

_ “Well, I mean, you really sold me on it,” Grantaire laughed, reaching out to pull Enjolras against him once more. “I don’t really do family functions. Parents don’t typically like me.” _

_ “I don’t care about them!” Enjolras said quickly. “I just...I always have a really shitty time at this thing, and I thought, I don’t know, it could be a lot more fun if you were there.” Grantaire still looked hesitant, and Enjolras felt his face go hot, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. He couldn’t blame Grantaire for not wanting to go - they didn’t really  _ do _ this sort of thing. In fact, they were rarely even in public together, most of their interactions happening while they were naked. And Enjolras knew that’s how Grantaire wanted him - as something casual and fun to pass the time and scratch an itch. Enjolras  _ knew _ that and yet, here he was making things awkward and weird by pushing for something more. He quickly backpedaled, saying, “You know what? Just forget it. Obviously you don’t want to spend your Christmas Eve at my parent’s stupid party. I don’t even know why I -” _

_ Grantaire interrupted him with a kiss.  _

_ “I’m assuming there will be food?” Grantaire asked after he pulled away and Enjolras nodded. “And booze?”  _

_ “Loads. Is that a yes?”  _

_ “You so owe me,” Grantaire said, his face breaking into a toothy grin. His hair was wet from the shower, his curls jet black and sticking to his forehead. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and in his beard, and Enjolras decided right then and there - he could look at that face forever.  _

_ “Anything,” Enjolras answered. And he meant it. _

_ “Well, I think that starts, like, now,” Grantaire replied cheekily, eyes darting down toward his still half-hard dick.  _

_ Enjolras looked down and then back up, smirking. “Yes sir,” he said resolutely, lowering himself onto his knees. It was a little uncomfortable and tricky to maneuver with water splashing in his face, but it was all worth it to hear Grantaire’s breathy “fuck” before he set to work.  _

Now, as he sat in the back of the car his parents always  _ insisted _ on ordering for him, he was having second thoughts about inviting Grantaire. It had nothing to do with the man himself and everything to do with his parents. Ever since Enjolras moved out on his own, he’d tried to distance himself from his parents as best as he could. He rarely spoke to them and almost never visited, and it seemed to be working out quite nicely for both parties involved. They did, however, expect him to show up to certain events such as this in order to uphold the image of the perfect family - the image they valued above their son’s actual happiness and wellbeing. How could he have thought it was a good idea for Grantaire - the most inviting and generous person Enjolras has ever known - to meet  _ his parents? _ What would Grantaire think of Enjolras when he realized he came from people like that? People who are nothing but judgmental, and callous, and self-serving? 

Enjolras felt himself become more and more anxious as they drove, home disappearing behind them until their city is nothing more than a blur of distant lights.

“E?” Grantaire’s soft voice stirred Enjolras from his thoughts. The other man placed a gentle hand on Enjolras, stilling his vibrating knee. Enjolras hadn’t even noticed he was bouncing his leg. “I can hear you thinking.”

“Sorry,” Enjolras mumbled, turning his gaze from where he was staring out the window. 

“S’okay,” Grantaire replied. His palm was a warm and heavy presence Enjolras didn’t know he needed until then. “You alright?” 

Enjolras nodded, his mouth quirking into an almost smile, but Grantaire still looked unconvinced. He searched Enjolras’s eyes for a moment before saying, “Okay then.” He started to pull his hand away, but Enjolras quickly covered it with his own hand, stopping his movements. He refused to meet Grantaire’s eyes, and after a moment, he pulled his own hand away. 

Grantaire squeezed his knee a little tighter. 


	2. Two

When they pulled up to Enjolras’s parents' house, Grantaire’s jaw hit the goddamn floor. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked, laughing in disbelief as the car came to a stop. He peered out the window at the house… _ sorry, mansion.. _ .towering before him. It had to be at least three stories tall and there was a huge, stone staircase leading up from the driveway to the front door. The drive wound around a large marble fountain, black town cars sitting idly in line as their occupants exited them one by one. Tons of people milled in and out of the house, the men in crisp suits and the women in furs, wearing gowns that sparkled among the white twinkle lights adorning nearly every available surface. The whole place screamed of decadence and wealth, something Grantaire had never experienced in his life, and he sat in awe, his nosed practically pressed against the car window like an excited child. Unfortunately, at that moment, the driver opened the door for him, causing Grantaire to all but tumble out onto his ass. 

“Sir, I am so sorry,” the driver said immediately, looking extremely concerned, and Grantaire just chuckled as he stood and brushed himself off.

“No worries, man,” he replied quickly, shaking the man’s hand with both of his, the driver giving him a bewildered look. He turned back to the vehicle and crouched down to look inside at Enjolras, who remained nonplussed at Grantaire’s clumsiness and had thus far made no effort to get out of the car. 

“Maybe we should just leave,” he muttered, his arms crossed over his chest in protest. 

“Ha! If you think I’m leaving this place without A. partaking in the  _ sinful _ food and drink options this party undoubtedly has and B. seeing your childhood bedroom, you’ve lost your damn mind. Let’s go.” He extended his hand to help Enjolras out of the car. 

Enjolras sighed dramatically before begrudgingly taking Grantaire’s offer and allowing himself to be pulled from the backseat. Grantaire waited for Enjolras to tip the driver, and then they walked up to the front door, hand in hand. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Grantaire said as soon as he stepped inside, causing some other guests to look over at them, annoyed. “This is crazy, you know that right?” he asked Enjolras, a smile dancing on his lips. “I knew you were rich but  _ Jesus Christ _ .” 

“Trust me, I know,” Enjolras said in return, sounding like someone had kicked his dog. “It’s gross overindulgence.” 

Grantaire decided he was going to ignore Enjolras’s foul mood in exchange for admiring the foyer they’d just entered. It was - unsurprisingly - enormous, with marble floors and a grand staircase winding upwards on either side. There was greenery and Christmas lights hung in artful arrangements and wound around the banisters, red and gold ribbons weaved throughout the pieces. Directly in the center of the room was a huge, 12 foot tall Christmas tree, perfectly decorated with twinkling white lights, red and gold ornaments, and sparkly tinsel. Above it, a stunning crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.

Around him, the guests were chattering away, each of them looking and sounding very... _ expensive  _ was the best word Grantaire could come up with. A server passed him then, carrying several crystal glasses on an honest-to-god silver platter, and Grantaire watched longingly as they were carried away.

He turned to express his thoughts to Enjolras, finding the man still standing close to the front door instead of at his side. He was also taking in the scene in front of them, but Grantaire doubted he was sharing his sentiments. 

“Hey, you know what’s  _ sooooo  _ crazy?” Grantaire asked, mocking himself with a dramatized eye roll. He could tell Enjolras was already overthinking himself into a funk - had started that process back in the car - and Grantaire wanted to lighten the mood before it was too late. 

Enjolras smiled in a way that looked like he was trying not to. “What?”

“You have never looked sexier to me than you do right now...standing inside your inheritance.”

“God, I hate you,” Enjolras said, trying to sound serious, but failing miserably. Enjolras shoved him away playfully, but Grantaire caught his wrists with ease and simply pulled Enjolras close. 

“What?!” Grantaire exclaimed, feigning ignorance. “You can be my sugar daddy.”

“Let’s go get you a drink,” Enjolras replied, holding onto the lapels of Grantaire’s sports coat. “You’re already talking out of your ass.”


	3. Three

The minute Enjolras had stepped into his parents’ house, he felt sick. He hated being there. He hated how huge and cold it was, how ridiculously extravagant and over-the-top. It wasn’t a home - not for Enjolras - and it never would be. 

But, now, as Enjolras watched Grantaire flit about the expansive kitchen, pulling hors d'oeuvres off the silver trays that were lined up on the along the island waiting for a server to walk them through the party, it was as if Grantaire’s mere presence in his parents’ house made it a warmer, more inviting place. Enjolras couldn’t keep the smile from forming on his face at the sight. 

“ _ Oh my god, Enj,”  _ he moaned, his mouth full of whatever he’d just tasted. “You have to try this.” He took a swig from the crystal glass he was holding, downing most of it, and held up a stuffed mushroom.

“No thank you,” Enjolras said as he leaned against the cabinet, crossing his arms over his chest. He was still pouting, and Grantaire’s face fell instantly. 

“Come on, E,” Grantaire begged. He held the mushroom closer, and Enjolras rolled his eyes as he opened his mouth, letting himself be fed. Grantaire beamed.

He had to admit it was a damn good stuffed mushroom.

The two of them loaded up some plates with more food and then made their way toward the bar area, Grantaire offering to fetch some more drinks while Enjolras found a place for them to sit. There were a few small tables set up near the corner of the large lounge area where most of the party was occurring, and Enjolras snagged one he thought would offer the most privacy. 

He looked around the room, recognizing a few faces and hoping against hope that they wouldn’t try to come say hello. A huge fire roared in the stone fireplace at the back of the room, the sound mostly drowned out by laughter and conversation, tinkling of dinnerware, and the orchestral holiday music playing in the background. If it wasn’t his parent’s party, Enjolras could almost picture himself having a good time tonight.

A few minutes later, Grantaire appeared juggling five glasses containing a variety of liquids. He grinned at Enjolras as he sat down at the table, sliding two of the glasses across to Enjolras. “I got us each a shot,” he said. “You know, to give us a head start.”

Enjolras snorted, but accepted the drinks gratefully. If he was going to survive this night, Enjolras was going to need a little liquid courage. The two of them took their shots simultaneously, and Enjolras shivered a little at the sensation, the alcohol burning his throat and settling warm in his chest.

“Don’t move!” Grantaire said suddenly, and Enjolras froze, startled. He was still holding the empty shot glass in the air, suspended just above the tabletop.

“What? Why?!”

“Because - _ look what I brought _ ,” Grantaire sing-songed, pulling out a small camera from the inside pocket of his jacket. Enjolras groaned instantly. Grantaire was always carrying around that damn camera and constantly trying to take pictures of Enjolras with it. He took pictures of everyone, really, but it was like he especially enjoyed torturing him, popping around corners and snapping pictures of Enjolras’s terrified screams or pulling it out just after sex, when Enjolras looked wrecked beyond repair. He held it up to his eye, pointed it at Enjolras and said, “And this lighting is perfect for you.”

“Nope, nope! Give it to me. I’m taking a picture of you for a change,” Enjolras demanded, reaching out his hand expectedly. 

“What? No!” Grantaire protested. “I hate taking pictures.”

“Yeah, everyone does. Now, hand it over.” 

Enjolras pointed the camera at Grantaire, and the other man reluctantly allowed himself to be photographed.

“Satisfied?” Grantaire asked grumpily, and Enjolras smiled as he examined his handiwork. He doesn’t say it, but something warmed in his chest as he looked at the picture. Enjolras tried not to let himself want too much from Grantaire, but he had to admit he loved these moments - the two of them snapping silly pictures of one another, bickering and laughing. It felt easy and comfortable and so  _ domestic,  _ and Enjolras never wanted it to end. 

“Highly,” Enjolras ended up saying in return, keeping the conversation light. He was already feeling that first shot warming his insides, making him loose and a little eager to be touched. He jumped up to sit himself in Grantaire’s lap. “Say cheese!” Enjolras joked, holding the camera out to take a photo of the two of them together. 

“Enjolras.” He jumped at his name, almost dropping Grantaire’s camera, and looked up to meet his father’s eyes.

“Father.” Enjolras replied, his voice flat. He felt Grantaire stiffen under him.

“Who’s your friend here?”

“You know he’s not my friend, Dad,” Enjolras said, without thinking. It was true - Grantaire was more than Enjolras’s friend, even if he didn’t really know in what capacity - and most importantly, Enjolras knew his dad knew that. And it infuriated Enjolras to no end that his father could do that - could invalidate and dismiss his identity and the people he cared about - with one simple question.

“Grantaire, sir,” the other man said quickly, standing up and practically dumping Enjolras onto the floor in the process. He extended his hand to Enjolras’s father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he added, leaning forward and kissing Enjolras’s mother’s cheek in greeting.

“Hm, yes. Pleasure,” his father replied sounding like it was anything but. “Enjoying yourselves?”

Enjolras could tell by his tone that there was an implication there, and it only fueled the anger rising inside him. He couldn’t stand how judgmental his parents were - would never forget how they turned their backs on him when he came out. How they were -  _ are  _ \- so disappointed to have a gay son. What was worse, Enjolras knew that his parents would judge Grantaire no matter what - that they would never see what Enjolras saw in him. They would only see Grantaire as the opposite of everything they were, or at least everything they pretended to be.

“We are,” Grantaire said with a politeness his parents didn’t deserve. “Thank you for having me. You have a beautiful home. Great food.”

Enjolras could tell Grantaire was nervous, and it was a little unnerving to see. Grantaire was normally so confident and easygoing, so to see him get all rambly in front of his parents was strange and only pissed Enjolras off even more. 

“I’d hope so, it cost me ten grand,” his father answered with a condensing chuckle, and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “So, tell me Grantaire, are you a student like my son?”

Grantaire opened his mouth to answer, but Enjolras beat him to it. “He’s 32.” Next to him, Grantaire cleared his throat.

His father examined Enjolras for a few moments before asking, “What is it that you do, then, Grantaire?”

“He’s a bartender,” Enjolras answered. He could feel Grantaire’s questioning stare next to him, but he doesn’t look over. His father had already gotten under his skin in the two minutes they had been in his presence, and all Enjolras could think about was getting under his. 

“Ah, well, then I guess you wouldn’t mind fetching me a drink then? Old fashioned, please.”

“Dad-”

“Enj,” Grantaire interrupted, and something in his voice caused Enjolras to turn. Grantaire gave him a pointed look, and said, “It’s fine. I’m happy to do it.” He leaned in then, squeezed Enjolras’s arm, and said, softer, “I’ll be right back.”

“This is all very funny, Enjolras,” his father said once Grantaire had walked away to get the drinks. “We get it. You can drop this little act now, you’re upsetting your mother.” 

“What act?” Enjolras demanded. Finally being separated from his father for the past two years meant that he wasn’t used to dealing with his insufferable bullshit on a regular basis anymore. Before, he would simply ignore his parents in favor of daydreaming about what life might be like once he escaped to the city with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Now that he had, coming back was much more difficult than he thought it would be. 

“Don’t be stupid, Enjolras,” his father said. “Why did you bring this person with you? You’re embarrassing us.”

“Oh, I’m embarrassing you?” Enjolras asked, his voice nearing hysterics. “Why the fuck did you tell me to come then?!”

“Enjolras!” his mother gasped then, and it was the first sign of an emotion from her since the conversation started. “Language!”

“Do not speak to your parents in that way, young man,” his father said tersely, dropping his voice low to avoid the other partygoers overhearing. “You’re here because your mother put a lot of time into planning this party. You’re here because it’s Christmas Eve and you have a duty to be with family on -”

“This isn’t a family,” Enjolras said instantly. His father showed no reaction to that statement, simply stared at his son for a long moment. Before he could say anything, Grantaire returned.

“Here you go, sir!” Grantaire said once he made his way back over to Enjolras and his parents. He handed the Old Fashioned to Enjolras’s father. “And I went ahead and brought you a fresh glass,” he added, giving his mother a glass of wine. Enjolras snaked his arms around Grantaire’s, making a big show of the whole thing, and looked defiantly at both of his parents.

“Thank you, Grantaire,” his father replied, his tone clipped. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

“Of course,” Grantaire said, looking uncomfortable. It was clear he felt the unpleasant shift that had occurred in his absence. “Nice meeting you.”

Enjolras said nothing as his parents walked away, simply stared angrily at their retreating backs. 

“What the hell was that?” Grantaire asked once they were out of earshot, yanking his arm from Enjolras’s grip. 

“I know, R,” Enjolras replied. “My dad is such a dick.” 

“He wasn’t being the dick, Enjolras, you were,” Grantaire replied. 

“What?!” Enjolras was taken aback - he didn’t think he’d ever seen Grantaire look so angry before. 

Grantaire clenched his jaw and looked away from Enjolras for a moment, exhaling a few breaths obviously meant to calm him. He lowered his drink to his side, fingers spread out around the rim, and leaned in close to Enjolras. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “Look, I’m all for being the worthless sap you bring home to disappoint your parents, but next time it would be nice if you let me in on the fucking joke.”

“Grantaire, I-” Enjolras tried to say, but it was too late. The other man shrugged off Enjolras’s efforts and stalked off, his shoulders a tight line. “Grantaire, wait!” he called at his retreating form, but he didn’t turn around. 

Enjolras was  _ such _ an idiot. 


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times

Grantaire was feeling sufficiently and pleasantly buzzed not half an hour later. He’d wandered around the party for a while, taking in the marble floors, expansive walls filled with one-of-kind pieces, the antique armoires and chaise lounges and whatever-the-fuck-elses. It was absolutely mindblowing that Enjolras grew up in this house, and Grantaire really couldn’t wrap his head around what his life must have been like. Being in this house was yet another reminder that he and Enjolras were very different people. Which is why Grantaire wasn’t even mad at Enjolras about this evening - not really. He was mostly mad at himself for thinking he was anything more than someone for Enjolras to get off with. Grantaire was a broke, 32-year-old bartender who drank too much and lived in a house with four other adults. He knew he had nothing to offer Enjolras except an experienced tongue and an ego boost anytime he wanted. Needless to say, he felt stupid for how he’d hyped this night up in his head, how nervous and excited he was that Enjolras had invited him. When he approached Bahorel and Eponine to help him with his hair and finding something to wear, they’d questioned him relentlessly about  _ what does this mean? _ and  _ are you two a couple now?  _ and  _ aren’t you nervous to meet his parents?  _ He’d brushed them off at the time, but inside he was wondering all of those things and more. He should have known, though, that Enjolras didn’t mean anything more by the invitation. He’d said it himself - he just wanted someone to keep him entertained at a shitty party and, well, everyone knew Grantaire was a hell of a good time. 

“Pretty killer, huh?” 

Grantaire was startled out of his thoughts by a voice suddenly near his ear. He turned to look for the source and his eyes landed on a very attractive older man. He was tall - taller than Enjolras - and probably somewhere in his late 40s. He had dark hair that was greying slightly, combed back into a perfect coif, complete with a salt-and-pepper beard. Grantaire had to admit he was definitely hot, not his usual type, but hot nonetheless. 

“Uh, what?” Grantaire asked stupidly. 

“The painting,” he answered easily, nodding his head at the enormous oil painting that Grantaire had been staring at. In truth, he hadn’t really been paying attention to the painting. He’d been leaning against the back of a sofa and letting his mind run wild with thoughts of Enjolras, who was a different work of art entirely. “It’s pretty remarkable.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, definitely,” Grantaire stuttered in response, still caught off guard by the interaction.

“I noticed you were empty,” the man smiled, gesturing to the glass still in Grantaire’s hand. “I brought you a refill. You’re a whiskey guy, right?” 

“I’m a whatever-will-get-me-drunk guy,” Grantaire said in return, reaching out and taking the new glass from the stranger. “Thanks.”

“Gotta have something to get through these parties,” the man agreed, still smiling at Grantaire. He felt himself smiling back. “I’m Mark. I’m a partner at the firm.”

Grantaire didn’t know what firm Mark was referring to, but he nodded along anyway, taking a sip of the whisky he’d brought him. It burned pleasantly in his chest.

“Grantaire,” was all he said in response, tipping his glass toward Mark in greeting. 

“Well, it’s nice to finally have a name to go with the face. I’ve been watching you for a little while. And I just had to come say hi.”

“Hi.”

The man chuckled slightly and scooted closer to Grantaire before asking, “So, how’d you get roped into this?”

“I’m a...friend of Enjolras,” Grantaire settled on, turning his attention back to the painting.

“Oh,” Mark hummed. “Where is he then?”

Grantaire simply shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

“Ah, well, there  _ are  _ plenty of places in this house to...disappear to,” Mark said, the suggestion more than obvious.

“Is that so?” Grantaire asked, barely able to suppress his grin. He was not used to this sort of attention. Drunken attention from strangers in dark bars, sure, but flirting with an older, obviously wealthy dude while standing in front of a thirty thousand dollar painting? This was certainly new territory for Grantaire, and he was feeling  _ just _ sorry enough for himself to take the bait. “Maybe you can give me the grand tour then?”

The man smiled in response, and he openly looked Grantaire up and down, painfully slow. “It would be my pleasure,” he said finally, when he was apparently satisfied with what he was seeing. “But, first, let me get you another drink.”

After about twenty minutes of Mark giving Grantaire a tour of the house - which was really just the two of them wandering around tossing innuendos back and forth while Grantaire continued to drink - he followed him into a room that he could only assume was Enjolras’s father’s office. There was just enough light streaming in through the windows to see, and Mark made no effort to turn on the light as he walked further into the room. Grantaire followed, feeling a lot drunker than he realized. 

All he could think about was Enjolras. And his heart started to hammer in chest when he let himself think about what he was doing. He knew what Mark wanted and he also knew that following him into a darkened room was perhaps indicating Grantaire wanted the same.  _ But did he? _ Grantaire hadn’t slept with anyone else besides Enjolras in nearly six months. And he was so stupidly, painfully in love with him, and it was so stupidly, painfully clear that Enjolras did not feel the same. It was truly a testament to his masochistic ways that Grantaire continued to have sex with Enjolras at all. To get to see and touch and  _ know  _ Enjolras in a way no one else did, while also knowing Grantaire would never have  _ all _ of him? At least, not in the way Grantaire craved - the way that mattered. It was a beautiful torture, one Grantaire would endure forever if he had to. 

Grantaire realized he had zoned out when he felt large hands grip his waist. They were nothing like Enjolras’s slender, graceful hands. It felt wrong. His head was spinning.

“Mark, I -” Grantaire started to say as Mark ducked his head toward him. Grantaire placed his hands on the other man’s shoulders, was about to nudge him away when the door to the office opened behind him. 

“ _ Grantaire _ ?” 

He froze at the familiar voice, turning and stepping away from Mark immediately. “Heyyyyy Enj,” he said, drawing out the word more than necessary. The three men stood there in silence for a long moment. Grantaire was starting to sweat. “Do you know Mark?” he finally asked, breaking the silence. 

Grantaire looked between the two of them, raising his hand slightly in Mark’s direction as Enjolras just stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “Of course I do,” Enjolras replied, sounding like he was trying very hard to keep his voice steady. “He’s a partner at my dad’s firm. Hello Mark.”

“Hi Enjolras,” Mark replied awkwardly. 

“So  _ that’s  _ the firm you were talking about,” Grantaire said because he couldn’t think of anything else. He chuckled but neither Mark nor Enjolras joined in. 

“Grantaire, can I speak with you in private please?” Enjolras asked, his tone clipped.

“Mark, would you excuse us?” he asked the man, the whole situation becoming painfully uncomfortable. Mark wasn’t an idiot, at least, and he simply muttered  _ yep  _ before making his way out of the room quickly.

The office was still mostly dark, so Enjolras turned on the small lamp that was on the executive desk sitting toward one end of the room. The extra light allowed Grantaire to see the room more clearly, and he glanced around taking in the leather furniture and the obviously expensive decor. Hundreds of law books were lined up on floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Enjolras said. “Where have you been?”

Enjolras looked mad. That wasn’t good. Grantaire was pretty drunk. That wasn’t good either.

“Here, there, and everywhere,” he replied.

“Look, I get you’re pissed at me, but  _ really?  _ My father’s partner? He’s like 50! Not to mention he’s married. To a woman. Who is here, by the way!” 

“He told me he was 43,” Grantaire answered and that was apparently not the right thing to say, because Enjolras laughed humorlessly, his expression incredulous.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said in return, mostly to himself.

Grantaire leaned against the leather arm chair positioned in front of the desk, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Wait, I’m confused. And a little drunk. Why are you yelling at me again?”

“I’m not yelling at you,” Enjolras said, sounding as if he was trying very hard to not yell. “I just -” Enjolras pinched the skin between his eyes, frustrated. “I was just looking for you. I wanted to apologize, but then I find you with... _ Mark _ ? Do whatever the fuck you want, I guess, but honestly, I didn’t know you were into older men.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Grantaire said suddenly, waving his hands out in front of him. “E…”

“What?” Enjolras snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. 

Grantaire slowly maneuvered to where Enjolras was standing near his father’s desk. “Were you...jealous?”

“What? No!” Enjolras said immediately, taking a step back from where Grantaire was crowding his space. 

“You totally were,” Grantaire smiled as Enjolras ran into the desk behind him, leaving him with no more room to go backwards. Grantaire rested his fingertips against the edge of the desk, his arms on either side of Enjolras’s hips. “You were jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Enjolras said weakly, but Grantaire had him and they both knew it. Grantaire pressed his body against the other man’s, his breath ghosting over Enjolras’s face. 

“Why were you jealous, Enjolras? Did you think I was going to sneak off with Mark, come in here, and fuck him against this desk? Is that what you want, Enj? You were jealous because you want me to fuck you against your father’s desk?” 

Grantaire could tell Enjolras was still angry with him, but his arousal was quickly overshadowing any hard feelings. He heard Enjolras moan softly, the sound escaping him seemingly before he could stop himself. 

Grantaire was staring at Enjolras’s lips. He wanted to bite them so badly it made his head spin. He wanted to pull Enjolras’s bottom lip into his mouth and suck on it until it was pink and full and wet.

A second later, Grantaire remembered he could. 

When Grantaire pulled away from the kiss, Enjolras was looking at him like he wanted to devour him. “Lock the door,” he all but growled.

Grantaire was all too happy to oblige.

They were all over each other immediately. Enjolras kissed Grantaire messily, pulling him along by his jacket until they’re up against the desk once more. Enjolras reached behind him and pushed everything off, ink pens and files clattering to the floor, refusing to break the kiss. Grantaire grabbed Enjolras by the hips and hoisted him up until he was sitting on the edge of the desk, his long legs wrapped around Grantaire’s waist. 

Enjolras dropped his head back, giving Grantaire access to the soft skin of his neck, and Grantaire took complete advantage, licking and kissing up and down his throat, eliciting soft moans from the other man.

After the two of them had stumbled around one another on clumsy feet all evening, this finally felt like solid ground. This, they were good at. Sex with Enjolras felt natural. Spectacular and mind-blowing, of course, but only because falling into bed with Enjolras was second nature. It was like their bodies knew - instinctively - what the other wanted, and with this they’d found a perfect balance. Enjolras always accepted what Grantaire had to offer. What Enjolras gave, Grantaire took. 

And right now, Enjolras was being very, very generous.

Enjolras pushed Grantaire away so he could start to undress, grabbing almost desperately at his own tie, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink. Grantaire stripped down just as quickly, and Enjolras slid off the desk then, turning around so he was lying face down against the top. 

“ _ Fucking hell _ ,” Grantaire breathed, taking in the sight of Enjolras, laid out naked and perfect in front of him. He started planting kisses down Enjolras’s back, reveling in the way it made the younger man squirm underneath him. 

Grantaire took Enjolras’s ass in his hands, and bit down into the soft flesh causing Enjolras to let out a sharp gasp. Grantaire spread Enjolras open and teased the tip of his tongue around Enjolras’s hole.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Enjolras was practically sobbing as Grantaire fucked Enjolras with his tongue. When Grantaire reached around to stroke Enjolras, the other man let out a cry so loud Grantaire was sure the whole party heard. 

“God, you’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” Grantaire said, standing up and folding himself over Enjolras to mutter in his ear. He pushed Enjolras’s long hair out of his face, licked a stripe up his neck to his jaw. 

Enjolras’s beautiful face was screwed up in what looked like an almost painful pleasure, and he was whining under Grantaire, needy with it. Grantaire wasn’t sure what he did to deserve the privilege of seeing that face.

“ _ Please, need you _ ,” Enjolras begged and Grantaire’s traitorous heart stuttered in his chest. Enjolras pointed toward the floor and said, “Coat pocket.”

Grantaire dug around in the inside of Enjolras’s suit jacket until he found the bottle of lube and condom the man had tucked there. He made his way back to the desk, stopping for a moment to admire the view - Enjolras naked bent over a desk for him, his body rising and falling with his heaving breaths, a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the desk. Grantaire slicked his fingers and kept himself plastered across Enjolras’s back as he opened him up, starting with one finger and quickly moving to two and then three at Enjolras’s insistence. Enjolras pushed himself up onto his hands, arching his back, his head falling onto Grantaire’s shoulder. He licked and kissed over Grantaire’s ear, and Grantaire growled low in his chest as Enjolras bit the soft flesh of his earlobe.

Grantaire felt like his skin was fire, and his cock was aching - hard and flushed. He pushed against Enjolras’s shoulder and the other man took the hint, lying against the desk once more, his cheek pressed against the polished mahogany. Grantaire extracted his fingers, lined himself up against Enjolras’s hole, and pushed in slowly. Enjolras was tight around Grantaire and he groaned at the sensation, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a moment, letting Enjolras adjust as he planted wet kisses to the back of his neck, whispering filth into the man’s ear. He pulled out slightly, snapping his hips back experimentally, pleased when it made Enjolras curse loudly.

Outside the door, the party was still in full swing, and Grantaire could hear the muffled music and distant laughter. As Grantaire started to pick up the pace, he pulled Enjolras’s arms behind his back, holding his wrists in one hand as Grantaire fucked into him. The new position caused Enjolras’s chest to lift off the desk, and he threw his head back, blond hair spilling down his back.

That vision alone was all it took for Grantaire’s hips to stutter and he came, his vision whitening as he clenched tighter to Enjolras’s wrists. Grantaire took a few shaky breaths, giving his short-circuited brain a moment to catch up, before he clumsily reached around to take Enjolras into his hand. He pumped feverishly for only a second and then Enjolras’s cock was twitching and he was following Grantaire, coming hard and hot all over Grantaire’s hand.

Enjolras continued to lay flat against the desk, his eyes closed as he worked to slow his breaths. Grantaire leaned against the desk above him, hanging his head as he too caught his breath, his curls tickling along Enjolras’s skin.

Eventually, Grantaire leaned down to press a feather-light kiss to the middle of Enjolras’s back. It was one of the more intimate things he’d done to Enjolras, but the other man didn’t seem to mind, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

Grantaire pulled off the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash can near the desk, and Enjolras barked out a laugh.

“What?” Grantaire asked, laughter coloring his voice, as the two of them pulled their clothes back on.

“Nothing,” Enjolras said with a smile, buttoning up his shirt. “Just the thought of my dad finding that tomorrow.” Grantaire laughed too, then, and his chest constricted painfully as he watched Enjolras pull his hair into a loose bun at the base of his neck.

In this moment, Enjolras was otherworldly. The warm glow from the Christmas lights and desk lamp were illuminating him beautifully, his usual sharp lines softer somehow - delicate and lovely. His cheeks were still flushed from sex and his body was looser and more languid. Grantaire was frozen in place. He couldn’t stop staring even as Enjolras finished dressing and looked at him fully.

Grantaire was so fucked.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not fully happy with this but I can’t keep looking at it. Also I’m aware that this switches POVs right in the middle but it was too late there was no going back

“Grantaire, I...I want to apologize,” Enjolras said then, and it was as if the other man had been unpaused, shaking himself slightly as he resumed his movements. Grantaire pulled his sweater back over his head and gave Enjolras a funny look. “For the whole thing with my parents. It was insulting and childish, and I’m sorry.”

Grantaire looked at Enjolras for a long time before saying, “It’s okay. It’s mostly not your fault. I mean, parents like that? Living in this house?  _ An only child? _ ,” he said the last one as if it was deplorably worse than the others. “You were bound to be a little fucked up.”

Enjolras laughed out loud at that. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“All right,” Grantaire said then, as he smoothed the lapels of his jacket. “How do I look?”

Enjolras smiled at Grantaire, trying to keep his expression even. The truth was, Grantaire was one of the most beautiful things Enjolras had ever seen. And he wanted to tell Grantaire this, but that wasn’t the sort of thing friends-with-benefits said to one another.  _ Wasn’t that what they were? _ Enjolras was starting to wonder. It was not as if he and Grantaire had had a proper conversation about what was happening between them. Enjolras, truthfully, had no idea what was going on in that brilliant head of his, and he wanted more than anything to  _ ask. _

Instead, he replied, “As expected. What about me?”

He could still feel the last kiss Grantaire had left on his back.

“You look like you just got fucked,” Grantaire answered and Enjolras merely rolled his eyes. “I’m ready.”

“For..?” Enjolras asked, confused. 

“To see your room, of course,” Grantaire said cheerily, a grin spreading across his face.

Enjolras simply beckoned for Grantaire to follow him. He didn’t have the energy to argue. 

Now, however, Enjolras stood with his hand on the doorknob of his childhood bedroom, suddenly feeling very nervous. He spun around to face Grantaire, his eyes narrowing. “You can’t make fun of me for anything we may find in there.”

“Oh come on!” Grantaire said, stomping his foot like a petulant child. “Not even if the joke is really,  _ really _ funny?”

“Not once,” Enjolras reiterated and Grantaire sighed heavily before raising his pinky finger. Enjolras wrapped his pinky around Grantaire’s in a promise. 

“Okay, here we go,” Enjolras said and pushed open the door. His room was very much like he left it when he’d packed away his stuff and moved to live in a dorm with Combeferre.

There was a king bed on one side of the room, the comforter and pillows arranged perfectly. Grantaire assumed they hired someone to do that. He had been in Enjolras’s bed a number of times, and he’d never seen it  _ not _ in a state of disarray. On the other side of the room was a large desk situated between two bookshelves. Grantaire moved toward those first, letting his eyes graze over each shelf, offering commentary when necessary:  _ Great read. Overrated. Ah, some of Huxley’s finest work. _

His eyes landed on a framed photograph sitting on one of the shelves. It appeared to be Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac when they were probably around twelve or thirteen. The three of them were standing with their arms around each other’s shoulders, wearing swimming trunks and sandals, dripping wet and grinning. Combeferre was much taller than the other two, so he was bent down at the knees, allowing his friend to reach his shoulder. Courfeyrac was in the middle, positively beaming at the camera with a mouth full of braces.

Grantaire’s gaze settled on the tiny Enjolras that smiled up at him. His blond hair was cropped short to his head and there was evidence of a sunburn on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. Something twisted in his chest then, and Grantaire had to look away.

“Can I ask you something?” his mouth was saying before his brain could stop him.

“Of course,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire looked up at him then. Enjolras was standing uncomfortably in the middle of the room, wringing his hands, and it was evident he’d been watching Grantaire. 

“Why did you invite me tonight? I mean, you could have brought anyone - Ferre or Courf…”

“I, well,” Enjolras said. “I guess I just wanted you. To come.”

“You can’t just  _ say  _ things like that to me, E,” Grantaire said. He knew he sounded desperate but at that point, he was no longer in control of what he was saying.

“What do you mean?” Enjolras asked carefully. Grantaire's heart was pounding.  _ This is it, _ he thought. After months of talking himself out of it, Grantaire was finally done pretending.

“Oh come on,” he said. “I know you know.”

“Know what?!” Enjolras asked, starting to sound equally desperate. 

“That I’m fucking gone for you, Enjolras!”

Both men froze. Grantaire felt ready to puke. There was no going back. 

“...what?” Enjolras breathed out, his expression completely unreadable.

“Since the second I saw you,” Grantaire said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his head. He was having trouble having this conversation when Enjolras was just standing there - staring. “You must have known.”

“I guess I thought...you just wanted sex?” Enjolras said, taking a slow step toward him. Grantaire refused the urge to run.

“No, Enj, I...I’m in love with you,” Grantaire said and something untangled itself from his heart.

“I’m in love with you too,” Enjolras replied, and Grantaire was not expecting that at all. Sometimes, when he wasn’t feeling too self-deprecating, he let himself believe that maybe,  _ just maybe, _ Enjolras liked him as more than a good lay. But Enjolras  _ loving _ him? That was never a possibility - not in Grantaire’s wildest dreams.

“Okay, yeah, that scares the shit out of me,” Grantaire ended up saying then, putting his hands on his hips and taking a few deep, steadying breaths.

“Me too,” Enjolras replied, but he sounded like he was smiling. “I don’t know if I know how to do this.”

The shy honesty in that statement passed through Grantaire like a cool stream, and his heartbeat was steady when he answered.

“We’ll figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Pls pay me in kudos and comments lol 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr - areyoumiserableyet  
> You can see the pic that E took of R in this somewhere on there
> 
> Merry Christmas to all who celebrate :)


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